The Primarch Issued an Impossible Mission
Titus walked to the platform and stopped.
His gaze swept over the veterans, over the marks of time on their faces, over the countless battle medals on their armor, and finally settled on one of them.
The man stepped forward.
In his hands he held a Laurel Crown —a symbol of glory for the Ultramarines, the highest recognition for a warrior, and a ceremony held before every expedition.
His voice was deep, yet it echoed throughout the entire hall.
Welcome home.
Titus bowed slightly, allowing the man to place the Laurel Crown wreath on his head.
"Rise, Demetrian Titus."
The man's voice continued.
"Master of the Watch, Company Commander of the Second Company, Watcher of Ultramar!"
Titus raised his head and met the man's gaze.
"The reborn Primarch has issued an impossible mission."
There was a hint of emotion in the man's voice.
"But only death marks the end of duty."
A flicker of emotion crossed Titus's eyes.
An impossible task.
Yes.
To reclaim the dark side of the entire Imperium?
In that star field shrouded in Chaos for millennia, how can we forge a path to victory?
Surrounded by countless enemies, how can they protect humanity's last hope?
That was indeed an impossible task.
But he did not back down.
He cannot back down.
Because he is Titus.
Because he is Ultramarines.
Because he is Demetrian Titus, Master of the Watch, Watcher of Ultramar.
His face was solemn to the point of being tragic.
There was a resolute determination to die—a determination to complete the mission even if I don't come back.
And not far from him—
A figure was looking at him with a constipated expression.
Cato Sicarius.
Former Second Company, Polar Warrior, and one of the Sword Saints.
At this moment, he was standing aside, looking at Titus with a complicated gaze.
There was resentment, jealousy, and an indescribable sour feeling in his eyes.
He touched the sword at his waist, a sword given to him by Primarch Guilliman. It was long and slender, with a sharp blade and the emblem of Ultramar inlaid on the hilt.
That was his pride, his glory, a treasure bestowed upon him by the person he loved most—his Gene-Father.
Then, he turned his head helplessly and muttered something to Malum Kaido beside him.
"You see, I'm the one who loves my father the most."
Malum Kaido glanced at him but didn't reply.
"No matter what task Father assigns, I will go and complete it," Cato continued, lowering his voice even further. "This guy, always nagging and making such a fuss."
He glanced at Titus again, his gaze conveying a clear "what makes you think you can do that?"
"Why should we share the position of the Four Heroes?"
Malum Kaido finally couldn't hold back any longer.
He raised his hand and made a "shh" gesture.
"Go ahead and learn it."
He spoke in a low voice, his tone tinged with helplessness.
Cato Sicarius pursed his lips, as if he wanted to say something.
The next second--
A beam of Psionic Energy light materialized out of thin air.
The light and shadow transformed into a giant hand, accompanied by a whistling wind, and slapped Titus hard across the face!
Titus was sent flying, tracing a graceful parabola in mid-air before crashing heavily into the hall's wall, leaving a deep dent in the hard alloy.
The entire room fell silent.
Everyone was stunned.
Cato Sicarius's mouth gaped open in an "O" shape, Marum Kaido's expression changed from helplessness to shock, the older veterans looked at each other in bewilderment, and the hundred soldiers of the Second Company were completely dumbfounded.
Then, a voice boomed throughout the entire hall.
"Oh shit!"
That was Guilliman's voice.
The Primarch's Psionic Energy projection was currently suspended in the center of the hall, surrounded by blue light.
His expression was a complex mix of anger, helplessness, amusement, and a hint of indulgence.
"Why are you making such a serious face!"
His voice was like thunder.
"I told you to go chop down insects! Not to chop down the Four Chaos Gods!"
Titus slid down the wall and stood up somewhat awkwardly.
There was a clear handprint on his face, a mark left by the Psionic Energy giant, but the mark was fading at a visible speed—after all, he was Space Marines, a company commander of the Ultramarines, and the Master of the Watch, not someone who was easily injured.
"The Macragge's Honour is yours!"
Guilliman continued, saying that the voice was full of a father's "disdain" for his son.
"I'll give you a few more blessings!"
He raised his hand, and a golden light shot out from his hand, enveloping Titus.
That light was warm and powerful; it was the Primarch's blessing to his offspring, the Gene-Father ' recognition of his son, and the most precious gift a warrior could receive before going into battle.
"Lao Tzu's physical blessing has descended upon you, adding another scratch to your armor—"
Guilliman's voice suddenly stopped.
He glanced at the golden light he had just emitted, then at the armor on Titus that was clearly ravaged by war, and his lips twitched slightly.
"I'll change my surname to Khorne right now!"
As soon as the words fell—
Deep in the distant Warp, on a colossal throne forged from bronze and blood, a terrifying four-armed being abruptly raised its head.
Is it really true?
Khorne's voice echoed throughout the Warp, like a million war cries combined.
"My beloved Zhanzi!"
At the same moment, in Terra Palace--
Guilliman's face darkened.
"Roll!"
His Psionic Energy projection roared at the void.
"Who is your warrior!"
Throughout the historical records of countless civilizations in the Milky Way, the name "Leviathan" has represented the same meaning—ultimate fear.
It is the greatest creation of the Hive Mind, the pinnacle of Milky Way Tyranid creature evolution, and the largest, most deadly, and closest to completely destroying the Imperium of Man in Hive Fleet.
Its creation stemmed from the Tyranid Hive's learning and reflection on the previous two failed invasions.